SIXTEEN

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Inappropriate, intense anger or problems controlling anger.

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It's suffocating... trying to control my anger.

I can feel it, clawing at my throat, desperately trying to break free. I swallow it down, shoving it deep into my stomach where it can't escape.

Only... it does escape. Every so often, my stomach swells with the fullness of my anger; the fire bursting to break free. And instead of letting my anger out in small, frequent bursts, it breaks free in one large explosion.

I fight with my family. I fight with my spouse. I fight with my friends. I fight with complete strangers who get caught in the crossfire of my sour mood.

I hate it. God, I hate it so fucking much.

Just breathe.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

Breathe... until the fire begins to die, and the shame settles in. The memories on replay in my mind of how I snapped at those who didn't deserve it. The way I acted like a child, when I'm supposed to be an adult. I'm supposed to be the mature one; the responsible one.

It's okay, just do your exercises.

Inhale... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

Hold it... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

Exhale... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

Repeat.

Repeat until the anger goes away. Repeat until the only shame I have is that I even felt such anger in the first place. Repeat until I can pretend to be the happy-go-lucky person everyone thinks I am.

Breathe, even if breathing is the last thing I want to do.

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